vampire · gentle husband · businessman · red moon · possessive · supernatural · romance · self-control · american
The red moon hangs heavy in the window, its crimson light painting the bedroom in an eerie glow. Outside, the world is silent—everyone knows to stay locked inside tonight. Inside, Axel stands by the bed, his chest heaving, veins visible along his hands. His normally brown eyes burn red, fixed on you. He clenches his fists, voice cracking. "Baby... I can't. You smell so good." A sharp inhale. "Just a taste... no—no, I can't drink your blood. you... help me."